“That damn idiot.” Arden looked toward the barn where she could hear the horses whinny, impatient for their breakfast, then toward the road, then up at the darkening sky and the snow that had started falling harder again. She clenched her fists. “Dammit, dammit,dammit.” She couldn’t go after him. The windows for the ranch cams on her laptop had viewer counters, and she’d already seen that a few people were watching. They’d wonder why their horses hadn’t been fed yet and start calling her if she didn’t get out to the barn pronto.
He’d come back. Whatever he was doing, he’d come back. He’d never leave Camo.
She worried about him anyway, all through her chores.
Six
The trek back down the hill to the Rav was not as hard as the trek up to the ranch the night before, but it was no picnic. At least a foot of snow had fallen overnight, and some of the drifts along the road were over Kyle’s head. He passed a couple of turnoffs he’d barely noticed in the dark the night before, long driveways leading to Arden’s neighbors, he supposed. One odd thing that caught his eye right beside a turnoff was a sign that said “Bus Stop” in black block letters on a white background. The bus painted beneath it looked almost cartoonish. Beside it was a snowdrift the height and length of a bench. Sure enough, Kyle sank his hand into the drift until he felt metal. He brushed powdery snow off the arm and part of the bench. What the hell was a bus stop doing all the way up here?
Kyle almost walked right past his rental car, now heaped with snow. He’d left the ranch in a haze of anger and frustration, but at least he’d had the presence of mind to grab the shovel off Arden’s front porch.
He started shoveling. God, he hated snow. Why anyone would subject themselves to this evil white shit for months on end when they could be lying on a warm beach was beyond him. Sure, it was cool seeing it for the first time when he was a kid, he even ran barefoot in it and made a snowball, but, Jesus, enough was enough!
Thinking about the snow distracted him for about two minutes. Then his thoughts went right back where he didn’t want them—orbiting Arden Volker.
It was different when she was only a name in an email. An enemy he needed to defeat to liberate Camo. But now that he’d looked into those gray eyes and seen the warmth, the humor, and yes, the pain that he saw reflected in his own, he’d stopped thinking of her as an all-out enemy. But what did that make her instead?
He didn’t know. But he knew what it made him—soft. And after soft came vulnerable. Then compassionate. And with compassion came failure. He’d learned that lesson too well.
Kyle’s breath steamed in the icy air. He brushed off the last of the snow from the Rav’s door—thank God it was dry and powdery and not heavy and wet—and unlocked it. Inside was his goal—his duffel bag. The fabric crackled when he picked it up, stiff in the freezing cold. He slammed the door and locked it—as if anyone could steal the car in these conditions—and hoisted the duffel onto his shoulder.
Now he just had the long cold uphill trek back to the ranch, and oh, good, the snow and wind were picking up again.Andblowing into his face. Could the day get any better? Maybe he’d encounter a hungry wolf pack. Were there wolves in Colorado? He’d have to ask Arden. She’d probably have a funny story about Nancy Satin single-handedly defeating a pack to save a kitten. And dammit, there she was again, Arden’s face right at the center of his thoughts, those steely gray eyes somehow giving off incredible warmth. From her position on the mattress beneath him, her honey-gold hair spread out across a pillow, her lips parted—
“Stop it, stop it, stop it,” he mumbled. Though he had to admit, the fantasy warmed him right the hell up. Now, if he could just do something about the steel rod pushing against the fabric of his borrowed sweatpants.
* * *
Kyle rubbed his eyes. Was that dark shape really someone standing beside the bus stop sign up ahead? And someone else sitting on the bench?You’ve got to be shitting me. The road hadn’t been plowed—did these two think they were gonna catch the 10:15 to Denver or what?
Two voices—both male—carried to him on the storm’s wind. One booming and certain, the other weaker and reedy. Middle-aged man, old man. As Kyle came closer, he determined the old man was the shape sitting on the bench while the younger guy talked and laughed and gestured as though they were downtown on a sunny day. So maybe Coloradanswereall crazy.
“…and when you think about it, if you lived in Denver, think how much closer you’d be to your wife. How about that?” The younger man nodded as he spoke until the older gentleman was nodding right along too.
By now, Kyle was close enough that they could all see each other clearly. The guy who was talking looked to be in his fifties, with an expensive-looking overcoat and a nice Stetson. He smiled and nodded to Kyle but his eyes appraised him, sizing Kyle up. “Colorado weather, huh?” he said dismissively as he turned back to the man on the bench.
Kyle stopped walking. “You guys actually waiting for a bus in this?”
The old man cleared his throat. “I take this bus every Thursday and Saturday, yes sir. Go to see my Peggy.”
Kyle started to tell him today was neither a Thursday nor a Saturday and what did it matter in this blizzard anyway, when he looked down at the man’s feet. He was wearing house slippers and what looked like striped pajamas under his long coat.What the hell?He jerked his gaze back to the other guy, who smirked and shrugged.What an asshole.
“Sir?” Kyle extended a hand to the older gentleman. Now that he had the man’s attention, Kyle saw the high bright gleam of dementia in his eyes. “Sir, I think you’re confused. There’s no way a bus is coming today. Can you tell me what your name is?” He looked at the other guy. “Do you know him? Are you his neighbor?”
“I live around here yes, but who areyou? I don’t recognize you.”
The old man took Kyle’s hand and shook it. “Walter Sanders. How much longer you think this bus is gonna be? Cold out here.”
Ah, Sanders. The neighbor Arden mentioned. Kyle ignored the asshole standing next to him. “Mr. Sanders, I think we need to get you home.”
“No, no, I need to go see Peggy. I only get two days a week, I need to see her.”
“Hey,” the guy in the Stetson said, “you didn’t answer my question, friend. You live around here?” His thin smile was like a blade.
“I think the important thing here,friend, is that we get Mr. Sanders out of the cold before his toes get frostbit. Now, can you tell me where he lives?”
“Daaaaad?” A woman’s voice cut through the air. “Daaaaad? You at the bus stop, Dad?” Kyle could barely make out a figure walking toward them through the blowing snow off the road behind the bench.Must be their driveway.
“Ma’am?” Kyle yelled back. “I think your dad is here. Walter Sanders?”
